


Billionaires Don't Eat Trash

by CannedTins



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Minor Angst, This was based off a shitpost, is scrooge a raccoon or a duck? more at 12, mentions of della duck, old man bullshit, please give scrooge mcduck a hug he needs it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannedTins/pseuds/CannedTins
Summary: A midnight routine of taking out the trash leads to an unexpected outcome for Donald Duck. Which leads to a conversation about money and family.





	Billionaires Don't Eat Trash

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a kind of joke about how Scrooge is so stingy that he would actually eat trash...and then it kind of escalated. Oops.

It was nearly midnight, the houseboat's gentle rocking was interrupted by Donald dragging a garbage bag out to the dock, hauling it over his back as he walked over to the garbage bin.

As it were, the bin stirred and made noise and Donald assumed it was another raccoon--he would have brought a broom if that were the case. He put the garbage bag down and walked to the garbage bin, heaving the lid upwards to be met with---

"Uncle Scrooge?"

He wasn't entirely surprised, of course, his uncle was known for his eccentricities, being both very old and very rich, but...it was a little jarring to see him eat straight out of the trash. After all, he was family.

Now Donald really wished it was just a raccoon. He didn't need any more emotional baggage on top of his already existing anxieties. The other trash could wait for now.  
"What in the name of Carl Barks are you doing?!"

It was hard to see Scrooge in the night, but one could tell he was embarrassed.  
"Eating dinner."

Donald shook his head, "Come on, let's get you outta here! You don't wanna be seen like this, do you?!"

He attempted to pull the old duck from the bin and settled him down, giving him a slap on the beak for good measure.

Scrooge retaliated instantly, reaching for his cane and kicking, but Donald kept him restrained. The old duck's nephew was having none of this.

"Is that any way to treat yer old uncle?!"

"You're the world's richest duck, Scrooge! You can afford more than anybody could humanely afford! And yet you're eating right out of the bin like some kind of creature!"

Scrooge glared at his nephew, "Ye know I don't like spending me money! Stop snooping into what I do!"

"Look," Donald attempted to calm down, "I know, but this is ridiculous. You're a terrible, stingy, mean-spirited old bastard, but you're still family. You couldn't have just asked someone? Called me?"

Scrooge simply looked down. Donald couldn’t tell what was going on in the old miser’s head, and if he could read minds, he probably wouldn’t like the results.   
He shook Scrooge by the shoulders to get him to pay attention again, “Hey, uncle! We need to talk!”

“Just let me finish my dinner, Donald.”

“We’re getting you a real meal after this talk. You’re lighter than I remember. What do you even eat?”

“Whatever I can, if it’s free or discounted,” Scrooge no longer tried to free from his restraints, having slumped down against the bin, though he still had a piercing glare, “or anything Beakley can get me.”

“You know I can make food. You know I can cook. I can even make your favorite meal. Why didn’t you call me? Why?”

No answer.

“It’s because even calling me costs money, doesn’t it?” Donald’s face fell, “You can’t be that stingy. To not even call your family. Or just come over here and ask me.”

Maybe, Donald thought, maybe he could be that stingy. He had to be. Donald tried to dig into his mind to remember another situation like this, but he couldn’t. He just knew this had happened before.

“Why in the world are you eating trash! You’re not a raccoon! You’re my uncle!”

Scrooge finally got up, using the cane to support himself. It depressed the sailor duck to see his uncle like this. Richest duck in the world, a lifetime of adventure and ongoing, having gone 150 years...eating leftover garbage. Even haggis was more nutritious.

“My meals weren’t much better during the gold rush, anyway,” Scrooge pushed away his nephew, “Why do ye even care now? You’ve got yer own trash to handle.”

Donald grabbed him by the wrist, “You’re not leaving! You’re staying here and giving me an explanation!”

Scrooge could tell his nephew was already beginning to lose whatever was left of his temper. He thought better than to leave. He wouldn’t want to wake up the entirety of Duckburg, wouldn’t he?

“I already spent money on groceries last week,” the old duck finally gave in, “tea, biscuits, some moldy vegetables from the back freezer for 25 cents.”

Donald was appalled, “Is that all you eat? Besides haggis? That isn’t healthy! Honestly, how are you even alive---you’re so much older than I am, and my tight budget forces me on fast food and a 30 dollar grocery list! How come I never see you at the hospital? Don’t tell me you’re also relying on Beakley for medical attention!”

The sailor took a breather, “Do you even like eating trash?”

Scrooge shrugged, “sometimes I hit gold...heh. Gold.”

“How often do you eat trash, Scrooge? And what are your reasons?”

“Since when are you an interrogator? Did they teach you how to do that in the Navy?”

“Don’t! Dodge the question!”, now Donald was considerably angry, “I’m worried about you! I worry about you all the time, cause you’re old and reckless! I worry about the triplets and what they get into! I worry so much because I care! I care so much about you, even if I don’t usually show it! Even if you piss me off! Do you know why I care? Do you?”

Scrooge looked up at his nephew, his features hard and worn out---truly looking his age.

“Why?”

“Because...I do. I really do care. I’ve always cared. And I’ve made sure to take extra care ever since...since...”

Tears were starting to form out of the sailor’s eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to mention his sister. The wounds were simply too fresh.

Scrooge seemed to understand. 

Normally Scrooge would have taken a cane to his nephew’s feet or otherwise lost his temper with him, but tonight he was simply too tired to do so. And the rant that was brought on...

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Donald questioned.

“I’m sorry, Donald. Maybe I should have eaten somewhere else. Maybe...I should have called.”

Donald blinked, “Wait a minute. You---there are millions of trash cans in Duckburg, and you...chose to scavenge at the garbage bin as close to my house as possible. You did this on purpose.”

Scrooge backed away, “What if it was the best place I could find?”

“Please! There’s a fancy restaurant right next to your Money Bin. I’m talking high-end French food. They always throw out the leftovers! Hundreds of dollars worth of appetizers! And here you are, snacking on banana peels!” Donald inhaled, “I’m not stupid, and neither are you! You came here because you know exactly what you are doing.”

The old duck looked away from his nephew, ashamed---and he certainly didn’t want to show it.

Donald tried to calm himself down again, this was his uncle, his family. This was someone he simply couldn’t abandon or let die. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Della. He didn’t want another death or disappearance in the family. He was simply worried about Scrooge’s wellbeing.

He knew Scrooge didn’t sleep very well or often. He knew he dismissed injuries like they were nothing, he knew that Scrooge would sometimes stare off into space, presumably thinking about one of his past moments and regrets. Those were the times whenever the old duck wasn’t out having another hurricane of an adventure with the triplets, those private times where he was really just a fragile old man.

Scrooge’s age was almost like a curse---sometimes it showed and it hurt him tremendously, other times it just rumbled quietly in the background. He could never truly escape that curse.

For a moment, Donald wished he’d never grow to be that old. 

“You know what,” Donald sighed, “I’m sorry, too.”

Scrooge looked up at his nephew again. Donald could see that he, too had begun crying. Scrooge hated showing this kind of vulnerability in public, but in such a personal situation he could at least let it slide, for now.

“Come here,” Donald reached out with his arms, letting Scrooge express emotions, “You can cry here. I won’t tell a soul. I know you’d kill me if I did.”

Scrooge reluctantly returned the hug, grumbling, “You’re so damn stubborn. Just like her.”

Donald didn’t know whether Scrooge meant his mother or his sister, but either way he understood.

“Come on, uncle,” Donald held on to Scrooge to support him, “Let’s get you some real food and rest. You absolutely need it.”

“But I’m not hungry anymore.”

 

“You’re stubborn, too!”

“Runs in the family.”

 

Uncle and nephew walked back together to the houseboat, having forgotten the trash that Donald had meant to dispose of in the first place. 

The stars twinkled, the full moon shining bright. 

Somehow, Donald knew she was watching.


End file.
